In The CloseIt
by Ella Van Erasolle
Summary: Harry Potter broods on pop tarts. Includes grindylows that don’t speak Chinese, Dobby and eyeball fritters.


In The Close-It

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, blah blah blah.

Summary: Harry Potter broods on pop tarts. Includes grindylows that don't speak Chinese, Dobby and eyeball fritters.

Author's Note: My friend gave me a challenge for this fanfic, and here it is:

- Must include Harry, Ron, Hermione, Dobby, Draco, and a grindylow

- Draco must be unusually kind..yes, kind..

- Dobby must hide from Draco

- Harry must constantly ramble on about poptarts

- Ron must be fascinated by Harry's stories of poptarts

- Hermione must whine about her hair

- The grindylow must attack people randomly

"People stuck in here?"

A head stuck through the abandoned broom closet.

A smile that was rare. Especially from Draco Malfoy.

"AHHHHHH!" a high pitched squeal arose from an old pile of books, where a house-elf, Dobby; stood.

"What's wrong, Dobby? Will you shut up?" said Harry, turning reluctantly towards Draco and the door.

"Why are you here?" asked Hermione, fumbling with her hair.

"I just wanted to ask you if you needed anything like some butterbeer or something. I'd love to bring you something to eat as well. How about some eyeball fritters, Potter? Tasty, very french tasting with ranch dressing, I think." Draco smiled.

"Thanks for trying to be nice, but we don't like human eyeballs. We like...dead food."

"Then how about a dead raccoon father caught this morning?" asked Draco.

"I NEED A HAIRBRUSH!" screamed Hermione, as she glared at Draco. "I need some soap!"

"What kind, dear?"

"Don't call me dear!" Hermione snapped angrily.

"Fine, MISS."

"You f-"

"Hermione.."

"My hair, my hair!" she moaned again.

Draco disappeared, but a split second later, returned with a bar of soap that looked years old and a comb full of hairs poking out-gray and orange and pink and blue-all sorts of rainbow colors.

"I didn't ask for a used' hair brush," she complained.

"Alright, alright." Draco returned with a cleaner, but still slightly used' hairbrush.

An Hour Later, after many chores were completed. . .

"Ron, you were the one who got us in here," moaned Hermione. "Alohomora!" She uselessly, coughing in the middle, made attempts to complete the charm.

"Are you trying to make the door fly?"

"Are you crazy? NO!"

"What-EVER," said Harry.

Dobby stared back with enormous light green eyes.

"Do you like pop-tarts, sir?"

"What? The muggle thin crispy bread-ish kind of thing?"

"Yes, yes."

"How do you know of them?"

"I snuck into one of my friends' houses."

"Bad boy Bad boy! Whippeeee!" A grindylow appeared and slid down Dobby's nose. "Yayyyy! Scoooore!"

Dobby shrugged, and morphed his confused frown into a smile, revealing yellow teeth.

"AAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!" he screamed, the grindylow dropping into Dobby's lap..

"So.."

"Back to our conversation of.."

"POP TARTS! WHEEEE! POP TARTS!" squealed the grindylow.

"Where did you come from, China?"

"You think? Nii hao Chen Shi Tei Mai Haa! I dont even know what that means!? But I do...take karate.." He narrowed his eyes.

"Harry.."

"P-P-P-OPPPPPPPPPPTAAAAARRRT!"

"Wow? What are those!?"

"They're Kavlis. What skinny schoolteachers eat in Muggle World."

"Those are supposed to be niiiice and criissssppppyyyy," said the Grindylow.

"Shut up, YOU!" said Ron poking him on the head and almost smushing him.

"I ALMOST DIED YOU IDIOT!"

"He's a mutant," said Dobby.

"POOOOPPPTARTSSS! I want POPTARTS!"

"Are you trying to make your own version of Aaron Carter?" asked the grindylow.

"Who's he?" asked Dobby while Harry continued, now telling a story to Ron.

"And pop tarts are these crispy white cookie crisp thing(without dead raccoons of course) and there's frosting on top! There's oreo.."

"OOOOODILLELLEEEEOO OREO! YADELOOOO YODELLLLLLEHEEEHEE! YODELLLLEEHEEEEHEEE!"

"AHHHHHH!" screamed Dobby again.

"You scared me...to death," said the grindylow.

"WOW! POP TARTS ARE AMAZING WOW!" yelled Ron, as he dreamed of the crispy tart with pink and white frosting on top.

"SPRINKLES...SCOOOORE TWO!" the grindylow jumped on top of Hermione's hair. "It's the ghost of the dead raccoon!"

"AHHHH!" she screamed in a high pitched voice, as her eyes formed into round circles. "AHHHHHH!"

"Get the doctor. In fact, call the pediatrician.." Said the grindylow as he jumped off and brushed off some dandruff off his arm.

"YOU GAVE ME LICE YOU LITTLE.."

"Booo!" he screamed, as Hermione replied with her own.

"She's such a pop-tart," said Harry.

"Do you fancy Hermione?" asked Ron with an awkward look.

"No! It's just...POP TART! POOP TART! POP!"

The grindylow took out a sketch pad which appeared from netherworld and scribbled a miniscule pop tart on it.

"POP TARTS!" Harry grabbed the paper and stuffed it in his mouth.

"Ooooowww!" he moaned.

"That was paper!" Dobby screamed. "Draco Malfoy must'v-"

"Yes, may I help you?" A face appeared, apparently it was Draco Malfoy..

"AHHHHH!" Hermione's scream echoed in the small closet.

All the Christmas ornaments fell down from the shelf.

"They're scared of you, and we are too." The grindylow bonked her nose. "Potato." He wrote it down on his little pad, the one that had appeared AFTER Harry had swallowed..

"I'm sick.." Harry moaned clutching his stomach.

"Hee hee," thought the evil grindylow. He drew a potato.

Harry eyed it.

"Yummm...potato pop tartsss..."

"He's turned into a monster."

"Of pop tarts."

"POPTARTALORA!" Ron cried.

"Are you trying to make that Pop-tart fly?"

"What? NO!?"

"AHHH! My hair!!"

"P...o...p..t...a...r...t."

I don't know the purpose of this story that well, but I think Harry aced a spelling bee on the word pop-tart.


End file.
